


It takes two to make an Adventure

by YuunaFiction



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental channeling of an Inner-Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry ends up in ME, Harry is a Little Shit, Harry is a Tease, He's also very adopted, It didn't end up that way, M/M, Master of Death Harry, MoD!Harry, This really escalated, This was supposed to be Sirius, a little drama, by accident, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuunaFiction/pseuds/YuunaFiction
Summary: It took a betrayal of epic proportions and a faceplant into Elrond Peredhel's rose bushes to find what he'd always wanted: A home.
Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf/Harry Potter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 951
Collections: Storycatchers' Middle land chronicles





	It takes two to make an Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Jezzkaa91 for Beta'ing this bundle of confusion!
> 
> This whole thing started as the introduction to a whole different story - a very serious story I might add - but somewhere along the line, it took a turn... Whoops?
> 
> Eeeh, Enjoy!

“How are you feeling?” Elrond inquired as he rested his hands behind his back, eyes firmly set upon the raven-haired stranger who laid wrapped in bandages in his Hall of Healing.

Bleary-eyed from exhaustion and accompanied with an air of defeat, Harry could find little will within himself to put up a fight or even keep his guard up. He was too tired, too spent to even care anymore.

“I’m living.” He croaked, not able to call himself ‘fine’ nor ‘okay.’ He wasn’t either one of those things, and he wasn’t going to spend the last of his energy trying to lie to himself or others. No doubt, Mad-Eye would have turned in his grave if he knew he’d been honest with a stranger. 

“Noted.” A small smile tugged at Elrond’s lips, “You were in poor condition when you appeared in my garden. Do you remember how you ended up there?”

Harry licked his lips, though he wasn’t nervous – merely thirsty. No later than that thought came to him did he have a glass of water in his hand, courtesy of Elrond. He took a sip, gathering his thoughts. Frankly, he cared not who knew about him, and if this person was indeed correct about the fact that he’d ended up in his garden, then it wasn’t more than fair, to be honest with him. By all accounts, the man had taken the time to tend to his wounds as well.

“I’ve never seen someone like you before.” Harry began, eyes moving from his luminous skin to the pointed ears that stuck up from a beautiful curtain of dark chocolate hair. “By that fact alone, I’d say I’m not in Kansas anymore.”

He would have snorted if it wasn’t so painfully obvious that he was, indeed, far from home.

“That is where you come from, ‘Kansas’?” Elrond took a seat beside the bed of the young man, who, by his willingness to talk so far, had no problem answering his questions.

Harry chuckled, unable to help himself.

“No, sorry.” Elrond raised a questioning brow. “It’s a simple figure of speech from where I come from. A reference to an old story to say that you’re far from home. I come from the city of London; it’s located in the United Kingdom of Britain.” A dry smile stretched across his face at the expressionless response he received, “Judging by your expression; you don’t know where that is… which means I’m _ very _ far from home.”

“I know of all the places on Middle-Earth, yet I have never heard of this Kingdom of yours.” Certainly not something as grand as a ‘United Kingdom.’ It wouldn’t have passed by his ears and eyes unnoticed.

“So, this planet is called Middle-Earth, huh? That’s not terribly original.” He leaned back against the headboard of the bed and looked out of the window. Elrond allowed him the moment of contemplation as he waited for him to speak again. “I’m in an entirely different world then. The world I come from is called ‘Earth.’ Or planet Earth, whichever suits you better.” Harry turned back to Elrond, expecting to see understandable disbelief, or at least, some notable expression of surprise. Instead, he saw the same lack of reaction as before – except a small furrow of the man’s brow. “You don’t look shocked by this. Anything I should know about?”

A small sigh escaped the elf as he leaned back in his seat, “For whatever reason, there might be, my garden has seen plenty of strange things over the centuries.” He sought out the emerald eyes of the young man, “You are far from the first I’ve seen who’ve come from this ‘Earth’ you call home. The last one who appeared in my garden lived here for the duration of his mortal life. He was a kind man.”

Elrond watched the mortal’s eyes widened, almost fearfully as he then swallowed dryly, “This man’s name…” He let out a shuddering breath, “W-was it Sirius Black?”

Realization struck Elrond as his own eyes widened in shock, “Harry.” He whispered, blinking as the mortal let out a strangled sob of confirmation… yet the man seemed to smile through it all, despite the heartbreaking realization.

“So, he lived a good life then?” He wondered, tears welling up in eyes. “He was safe here? Happy?”

Elrond’s chest constricted painfully, but he forced his voice to remain soft and gentle, “Sirius was beloved by my people. A kind wizard and shape-shifter. He could transfix people with his many stories filled with mischief and magic. I’m afraid my sons picked up rather poor habits from him.”

Harry smiled wetly and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “That was his thing: Sirius was incapable of being serious. He’d always crack the worst jokes you’d ever hear.”

“I’m aware.” Elrond smiled, “He was a good friend.”

“How old did he get? Any family?”

With a sad shake of his head, Elrond crushed Harry’s hope of finding family, “I’m sorry to say that Sirius never bonded with anyone that I know of. He grew to the ripe age of one-hundred and twenty-five. A long life for a mortal.”

To his surprise, Harry shook his head, “No, it’s not very long for a wizard in my world. He could have lived for another fifty years on top of that. I suppose his years spent in Azkaban did more than I first suspected.”

Elrond nodded thoughtfully. He’d heard countless stories from Sirius about his life. That also included the time he’d wrongfully spent imprisoned in a dreadful tower that was guarded by wraith-like creatures that could suck out your soul. Anything that could be compared to a Ring-Wraith was enough to deduce how bad it must have been.

“Is he buried here?” Harry wondered and forcefully pulled Elrond out from his thoughts.

“He is.” He confirmed with a solemn smile, “There was a willow-tree that he always liked to sleep underneath. We put him to rest underneath it.” He confirmed, “It’s not our custom to bury the dead, but we learned a lot from Sirius and decided to bury him the way of his people.”

With a tight and quivering smile, “Thank you…?” It wasn’t until then that Harry realized he didn’t know who this man was.

“Elrond of Rivendell.” The elf introduced himself, also remembering he hadn’t told the mortal his name, “I’m the lord of this Haven.”

Harry sat up straighter and bowed his head politely, “As the head of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses of Potter and Black, I want to thank you for taking care of my Godfather and giving him the life he so rightly deserved yet never received. I am in your debt Lord Elrond.”

The immortal blinked rapidly, stunned by the mortal before him. The young man could not be more than twenty-five summers at most. From what Sirius told him of his Godson, Harry was not one for etiquette nor manners in most cases. In fact, quite a lot of things conflicted with what he knew about Harry so far. Most of all, Harry was as tight-lipped as a clam. Or so Sirius had described his Godson.

“Though unnecessary, I accept your gratitude and acknowledge it.” He then gave the raven-haired man a contemplating gaze, “Forgive my frankness,” He started, “But I am puzzled about your manners and the age you hold. Sirius told us that you were fifteen summers when he fell through the Veil in your world. You look naught but twenty-five summers at this moment in time- “

“Ah.” Harry interrupted and shifted in discomfort. The elf looked on curiously and waited for him to continue, not taking offense at the interruption. “Age…” He hesitated and then finally let out a long-suffering sigh, “How much do you know about my world?”

“Quite a lot, I’d imagine. Sirius liked to tell stories.”

“Have you heard of ‘The Tales of Beetle the Bard’? The story of the three brothers and their encounter with Death?”

“I believe I heard it at one point, yes.” He nodded, “Though I may require a reminder for it was a long time ago since Sirius told me. Almost a hundred and fifty summers.”

Harry nodded in understanding as he wiped the last of the wetness around his eyes. He took a sip from his glass of water and began formulating his thoughts, “Alright. I’m guessing he told you much of everything that happened until the point he fell through the Veil, yes?”

Elrond inclined his head in a ‘yes.’

“This is a bit of a continuation of that. It might take a while.” He warned.

“I have time.” Elrond smiled, settling in to hear what happened after the battle of the Ministry of Magic. A story which he quite liked due to the suspense. Sirius was a fantastic story-teller when he’d been alive. Perhaps Harry was one too.  
  


* * *

  
“…Then I realized I wasn’t aging past my maturity… and I haven’t for the past two centuries since.” Harry finished and took a sip from his water to soothe his aching throat. He’d recounted much of what happened in the war, leaving out little detail to the man who’d been a friend to his Godfather. Even being close enough to bury him when he’d died.

Elrond remained silent for a long moment until a chuckle tore through his throat on its own accord. He shook his head as Harry looked at him, curiously – if not a little puzzled. “Sirius did tell me that you tended to walk into trouble without being aware of it – that it seemed to follow you like a moth to a flame. I can see now that he wasn’t exaggerating. Gaining immortality by accident certainly classifies as… _ unusual _.”

Suddenly a thought struck Harry, “Wait!” he gaped at the elf in bewilderment, “You said- wait, wait… How old are _ you _ ?” He’d been too caught up about Sirius to notice_ Elrond _buried him over a hundred and fifty years ago.

“To answer the question you didn’t ask, I’m immortal.” Elrond’s smile quirked up into a small but friendly smirk, “I belong to the race of elves on Middle-Earth. We do not age much past our age of maturity.”

Harry covered his mouth with his hand; eyes firmly fixed on the elf before him. He was shocked, _ stunned_. Immortal… _ like him_. “I’ve never met anyone immortal aside from Fawkes.”

It took a moment for Elrond to realize whom he was talking about, “The red bird you arrived with?”

The young, now_ immortal_, lit up at the sound of his… pet? “Fawkes is here as well?”

“Yes, he arrived along with yourself. He’s not awake as far as I’m aware. He’s well, however.”

“Thank Merlin.” Harry let out a relieved sigh, “He’s the only constant companion I’ve had for almost a century. I’m attached to the chicken.” He smiled tiredly.

“I’ll let you get some rest, young Harry. We can talk more later.” Elrond rose from the chair by the side of Harry’s bed. “I’ll have food and drink brought by so that you can eat something.”

“Thank you, Lord Elrond.”

Once more, the tall brunet inclined his head before leaving the, by their standards, young wizard to rest.  
  


* * *

  
“You want me to stay here?” Harry stared owlishly at the two elves in front of him – Elrond and Glorfindel. The latter of which had long golden hair and a smile that would have made both men and women in his world swoon at the mere sight. It seemed all elves were unnaturally pretty.

“It is not a request, merely an offer.” Elrond smiled, “The People of Rivendell all knew your Godfather and cared for him dearly. You are, by extension, already known to us through his stories. Should you wish it, you will have a home here amongst us. As an immortal, I can’t see you finding much comfort in the cities of men.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Harry looked between the two smiling elves – people of whom he’d already grown to love. It was difficult not to when their presence sent a jolt of peace and happiness through his worn and tired soul. Spending his long life with others like himself didn’t feel like such a bad idea.

“There is no need to say anything,” Glorfindel said gently, “We would be honored.”

“Then, I accept.” Harry smiled brightly, feeling happier than he had for a long, long time.  
  


* * *

  
“I don’t hate my world or my people, no matter what drove them to push me through the Veil.” Harry admitted one day as he sat amongst his two friends, Glorfindel and Elrond, “But I also don’t want to be constantly reminded of its existence whenever someone speaks my name in this world. Harry Potter or Lord Harry Potter-Black held so much power and sway there… It was a name I could never escape, no matter how much I tried to live as a normal human being. It was a title I neither wanted nor had any say in acquiring. While it will always be a part of who I am, I wish to be free of it.”

Glorfindel could understand the desire to be free of the name that carried achievements and glory attached to it. It was easy enough for people who did not live with such a name to claim that it was a wonderous thing – but it was a heavy burden. Young Harry had been forced to shoulder such hardship since the day he’d been born, and he’d had no means of escaping it, never being given a choice in what _he _wanted.

“A new name,” Glorfindel said knowingly, exchanging a smile with Elrond as the two of them watched Harry. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“No, but I wanted to ask the two of you if you had any ideas. I’m not sure what names are common here.”

“How about ‘Kuruion’?” Elrond asked and then translated, “Son of Magic.”

The newly named Kuruion smiled.  
  


* * *

  
“Kuruion!” Elladan and Elrohir came running from across the garden, “If father asks about us, we were never here!” they shouted and promptly dived behind a bush.

Meanwhile, Kuruion blinked slowly and turned back to his sword practice with a minute shake of his head. The two twins had an uncanny personality resemblance to Fred and George, and it was simply best to go with the flow in the case that the two of them were up to some mischief, lest he got caught in the middle of it all… _ again_.

Suddenly, Elrond rounded the corner to the garden, a frown mixed with exasperation marring his immortal face. He looked around himself, spotted Kuruion, who smiled sheepishly at him, rolled his eyes and left – knowing he’d never get him to tell him anything even if he tried. Elladan and Elrohir dragged the poor wizard into more trouble than Elrond’s graying hair could need.

“Thank you, little brother!” Elrohir grinned as his head appeared from behind the bush, Elladan quickly following.

“You owe me.” Kuruion huffed with a smile, “Dessert for a week.”

The two twins sent each other a meaningful look before nodding together, “Deal.”  
  


* * *

  
“Anything new, Arwen?” Kuruion asked as he took a seat beside his sister in all but blood. The library wasn’t a very popular place in Rivendell, but both Kuruion and Arwen spent much of their time studying and reading compared to many others.

Arwen smiled and turned her book around, “Grandmother gave me this book when I was in Lothlórien. It’s about the Kingdom of Rohan. Would you like to read it after I finish?”

“Gladly!” He grinned, “I could use a break with my Quenya and read something interesting for a change.”

The beautiful elf laughed merrily, “Don’t let my father hear you say that. He will insist you learn Primitive Elvish as revenge.”

Kuruion shuddered, “I know I’m rather quick with languages because of magic and potions and stuff, but I don’t actually _like _studying. Not even immortality can change that.” He grimaced as his adoptive-sister laughed at his expense, “I’ll have you know that once upon a time, I was nothing more than an average student who passed his education due to luck and instinct.”

“But you’re such a good student!” She gushed, mirth shimmering in her eyes. “Poor father needs a son who’s willing to listen to his lectures because Eru knows, our brothers won’t.”

“Ah, yes.” Kuruion said dryly, “It’s a miracle the two of them can even read with the lack of books they’ve held in their long life.”

“I don’t recall seeing father ever managing to make them study. Much less together.” Arwen hummed thoughtfully, “Lord Glorfindel and Sirius were the only ones who’ve managed to make them sit long enough to tell them about some epic battle or another.”

“And in most cases, Sirius helped plan their escapades, am I right?” Kuruion chuckled and shook his head.

Arwen smiled, “Sirius canine-form was a very convenient and good distraction for the two of them. They used that strategy more than once.” 

Kuruion laughed, imagining all the chaos the three of them would have brought to Rivendell with their madness.

* * *

“So,” Elladan said one day at dinner, “Kuruion.”

Said wizard looked up with half a spoonful of food in his mouth.

“Do you need to wash your animal-form, or does it always look like that when you shape-shift?” Elrohir probed.

Elrond sighed, looked up into the ceiling, and mourned the little peace he’d acquired since waking up. Arwen, on the other hand, raised her book a little higher, hiding her smile but couldn’t stifle her giggle.

Kuruion swallowed the food in his mouth and cleared his throat, “Does that mean you want the honor of cleaning my fur?” He smirked as the mischievous expression on the two twins fell like a dropped pebble, “Don’t forget to brush my teeth and scratch my belly before you’re done.”

“W-wait!”

Elrond quirked a smirk.

“Can I comb your mane?” Arwen peaked above her book, “It’s very soft.”

Kuruion merely grinned, “You can try.”

If Hermione had heard someone ask if they could comb the mane of a lion, she would have thought them all barmy. Then again, elves didn’t seem to have a lot of self-preservation. Merlin knew how reckless the twins were. It was a wonder Elrond had not lost his sanity because of the two of them. It was hard to imagine having children that, literally, would _always _be there. _ Always_. **Forever**.  
  


* * *

Kuruion, a little over a thousand years old, laid underneath a willow-tree and beside the grave of his beloved Godfather. He frequently came to that place when he wanted a moment alone to reflect on his former world and home. At times it felt like such a distant memory. A dream.

The grave of Sirius Black reminded him otherwise.

He’d spent over eight-hundred years on Arda, and it was far longer than he’d ever spent on Earth. That made him slightly detached from his former life_. Finally_. He still had his magic, his knowledge of magic, his Hallows, and of course, his bonded Phoenix, Fawkes. Though, the Phoenix preferred to preen under the many compliments of the elves around the city rather than accompany him during the day. The silly bird loved getting compliments and have his feathers cleaned by the gentle hands of elf-maidens.

It was all rather funny, and Dumbledore would have undoubtedly laughed quite merrily at the thought of Fawkes getting so much attention.

He sometimes wondered if his old friends and family watched over him still. If it was even possible to cross worlds as a ghost. Was Death’s realm the same for all living beings? Or was there a separate one for each world that existed?

Kuruion liked to think that there was only a single Afterlife. Otherwise, it would mean that everyone he’d once loved and cherished would no longer be able to watch over him. He’d come to terms with the fact that he’d never join his family and friends, but knowing that they watched over him was enough to soothe the lonely ache in his heart when the thought appeared. If he lost that, he was pretty sure he’d lose a part of himself that he couldn’t bring himself to let go off. He was Kuruion here… but he was also Harry Potter, and he always would be.

No matter what.

“There you are!” The voice of Arwen broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention towards the many branches of the willow tree that hid him from view. She pulled them to the side and entered the small and cozy hideout. She smiled fondly at the sight of her adoptive brother, “Elladan and Elrohir have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh?” Harry raised a brow.

“Their friend has finally arrived from across the mountain, and they wanted to introduce him. No doubt to cohere you into another adventure of theirs, but I’m afraid Legolas doesn’t know what he’s in for. Maybe you should meet up with them to keep them out of trouble and make sure that poor Legolas stays alive and with all his limbs attached? I dare say father won’t take kindly to a guest losing his body parts.”

Kuruion sighed fondly at the teasing. She seemed far too amused by the absolute disasters the twins managed to drag him into. It always placed him in such a bind. The last time he went on an “adventure” with the twins, he’d been on the receiving end of Glorfindel’s and Elrond’s raised eyebrows, and nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of Glorfindel’s and Elrond’s raised eyebrows. No matter how old he was, it made him squirm like a scolded child. It didn’t help that both had neon pink hair at the time and managed to look rather dashing still.

“I think I’ll pass, Arwen. Glorfindel still carries a sword with him, and I’m pretty sure Erestor is giving me a stink-eye because he’s forced to carry around a mirror for Elrond. They’re not over the last prank we pulled. It would be best not to antagonize a sleeping Hippogriff when you’ve already offended it once.”

“Don’t be like that!” Arwen laughed, “Don’t you want to meet Elladan and Elrohir’s friend from Mirkwood?”

“Is he anything like the twins at all?” He asked with great reluctance. He wasn’t sure he could handle _another one_.

“Not at all. Well,” Arwen admitted, “I do believe he’s always in favor of an adventure, but he lacks our brothers' delight for tricks and mischief.”

Kuruion stared up into the canopy of the willow tree, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“The likelihood is considerable.”

With an exasperated sigh and a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, “Very well. Will you show me the way to the fox-spawns?”

Arwen stifled a laugh with her hand.  
  


* * *

  
“Worry not,” Arwen assured lightly, “If father asks, I’ll be sure to tell him it was entirely my fault that you ended up in the twin's plans and mischief once more. You know he’s incapable of harboring any form of resentment towards me.”

Kuruion smiled wryly at his adoptive sister, “That’s positively evil, Arwen. Are you sure you’re a Ravenclaw and not a Slytherin in disguise?” Long ago, Kuruion had written down the typical characteristics of each house from Hogwarts (mostly to humor the twins who wanted to see what house they would have belonged to if they had attended the school). Arwen had fallen into the slot of the Ravenclaw House as if though she’d been born to it.

“Quite certain.” She smiled. “Ah, here we are.” She said and stepped into an open terrace overlooking Rivendell.

“Arwen, Kuruion!” Elladan smiled with delight – effectively drawing the attention of his companions to the arrival of his siblings.

Kuruion neatly dodged Elladan’s gazelle leap and shot him a dry look. Deciding to ignore his brother’s antics until further notice, Kuruion looked around until his gaze landed on the one person whom he didn’t know.

And _bloody hell_, he didn’t know this stranger ‘Legolas,’ but he sure _wanted _to. The elf stood tall and proud, bright blue eyes that put the sky to shame, and cheekbones that could cut a heart in two. Which, if the sound of his tripping and tumbling heart was any indication – it could.

Suddenly feeling quite dry in his mouth, Kuruion swallowed and mentally kicked his brain into a swift re-start. Thus, promptly reminding himself that he was over a thousand years old and not a fourteen-year-old schoolboy who’d suddenly discovered his libido. Which, for some unknown and mystifying reason, reared up like an angry dragon at the sight of the creature calling himself ‘_ Legolas.’_

With Legolas’ attention curiously set on him (and rightly so because he was a very fascinating enigma to elves – he knew), Kuruion wasted little time to make sure it stayed that way for no ulterior reason at all. Honestly.

Slapping the ‘Charming Smile’ onto his face, Kuruion leaned into an elegant bow and then caught the elf’s gaze with his.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before. My name is Kuruion.” – Yes, he most certainly had Legolas’ attention now – “And I carry no relation what-so-ever to those two.” Elladan and Elrohir squawked in offense, “Happily adopted.” He assured, “Apart from Lady Arwen, she’s a darling, and I could not hope for a better sister.”

Legolas blinked, mystified and confused about the blush creeping up on his cheeks, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Kuruion. I’m Legolas Thranduilion. Elladan and Elrohir have spoken about you quite often.”

Kuruion, if he were a bird like Fawkes, would have preened and puffed up the feathers on his chest, “All exaggerated, I’m sure.” He said, utterly humble.

Arwen stifled a giggle behind her hand and swiftly stepped on Elladan and Elrohir’s toes to keep them from ruining the utterly entertaining sight of the Mirkwood Prince’s confused attraction to Kuruion and her adoptive brothers less than subtle flirtations.

“Of course,” Legolas assured – his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning into an ever-darker shade of pink.

Kuruion smiled at the elf who looked like the equivalent of how his favorite dessert – treacle tart – would look if it were a person.

A _ Legolas tart. _

“Lady Arwen tells me you have an insatiable taste for adventures – much like myself if I do say so – would you perhaps be interested in partaking in one together?” Kuruion smoothly stepped to the elf prince’s side and offered his arm with a smarmy smile – an arm which Legolas automatically took – to his own confusion.

“I- “

Unable to hold it back anymore – Arwen laughed – unabashedly and without restraint.

Kuruion, upon hearing his sister’s bellying laugh, blinked rapidly and proceeded to blush a furious red as he looked at his siblings and then slowly turned his gaze to Legolas, who – not unlike himself – seemed quite… embarrassed if his apparent bewilderment and pink ears were any indications.

_ Morgana’s tits!  
_

“Oh.” Kuruion stammered, unwittingly drawing everyone’s attention to him, “I’m adopted?”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, Harry. 
> 
> Legolas is a confused cinnamon bun.


End file.
